NOT TOO LONG ago, there was a boy that Lizzie liked, an eighth grader who played basketball and made good grades. He was from a better part of town, had two parents, and wore the best clothes.
She made up her mind one day that she would talk to him. When she found him he was in the company of a teammate, a power forward named Walt who rarely spoke, and together they stood in the school’s hall.
“Lucas, right?” Lizzie said, turning her attention to her love interest.
She swallowed with the notion that he could see through her, through the clothes she’d earned on her knees to the tainted blood that coursed through her veins. But then Lucas smiled.
“Yeah, I’m Lucas.” He frowned. “You’re Lizzie, right? Or something like that?”
Lizzie nodded. Her heart thundered with the knowledge that he knew who she was.
“Well, what can I do for you, Lizzie?”
“Do?”
“Yeah. You wanted something, didn’t you?”
Lizzie swallowed. “Yeah, I, uh, thought that maybe you and me could go out sometime.”
“Go out?” Lucas glanced at Walt, who raised a brow.
“You know, catch a movie, maybe.”
Lucas paused. “You’re Lizzie Hammond, right?”
She nodded. Lucas and Walt exchanged another look.
“Okay... How’s this? There’s a party tonight at my place, my parents are gone all night so it’ll be great. Come and uh…be my date.”
“Wow. Okay, sure. I’d love to,” Lizzie said.
“She’d love to,” Lucas said to Walt. He turned back to Lizzie. “Good. See you then.”
LUCAS STRONG’S HOUSE was by far the nicest Lizzie had ever seen. It had two stories, a white picket fence and a pool in the backyard. All of that was on top of the lake that it faced. Sabal Lake was what it was called, and Lizzie had never heard of it before that night. Even before she saw the house, she knew that Lucas was well-off. His mother was an elected representative that made him go to public school for PR purposes. One look at his house told Lizzie that he definitely didn’t have to be there.
She rode the bus there, certain she could bum a ride back when the time came. Lucas, tall and nearly filling the frame, greeted her at the door and, instinctively, Lizzie warmed. He grinned at her, a smattering of boys at his back, before waving her in.
“Where is everyone?” Lizzie said, glancing at the dozen boys present.
Lucas shrugged. “I invited people. Hopefully they’ll come. I think someone else is having a party though, so you never know.”
Lizzie frowned. She couldn’t imagine any other party she’d rather be at.
“You drink?” Lucas asked as he led her through the living room and into the kitchen. Briefly, his gaze lingered on Lizzie’s dress, a backless and thigh-high number she was suddenly grateful she wore.
“Yeah, of course,” she called. She’d never had a drink, but didn’t want him to know that.
“Good,” Lucas said, turning to shoot her smile. “Let’s take care of that.”
Lizzie followed him, thrilled when he took her hand, yet curious about the stares she was earning.
She’d never seen a kitchen like the Strong family’s kitchen. It had shiny marble floors, wallpaper, and a high ceiling. She even saw one of those rigs where pots and pans could hang from the ceiling. Lucas grinned at her wide-eyed stare as he mixed an impromptu drink. When he handed it to her, she took a sip and winced.
“I thought you said you were a drinker.”
Lizzie nodded. “I am.”
“Good.” He brought fingers to the bottom of her glass and eased it upwards. “Drink up. Then we’ll dance.”
With the bitter alcohol down, Lizzie allowed herself to be led to the center of the living room. No one was dancing, as there were no girls to dance with, and Lizzie felt sorry for them. She bet they envied Lucas and the way she was giving him her undivided attention. They watched, some with beers in their hands, others with soda, but all of them watched, watched and wanted. Lizzie smiled. She would show them. Show them how lucky Lucas was to have her, how much of a prize Lizzie Hammond could be.
Lucas pulled her in, and immediately they began to grind. The music was loud and insistent, a frenzied thump of bass, cymbals and nasty lyrics, meshing for a high-octane booty mix. She placed her arms at his neck and he gripped her waist, their bodies moving in tight, concentric circles. Her breasts swayed with the beat, unencumbered in her strapless, braless outfit as his hands found her ass, and as she let them. He began to kiss her, hard, and their crotches pressed. Lucas gripped her ass and kneaded it, grinding and pulling on the fabric of her dress all at the same time. As her hem rose, the boys hooted with glee, drinks raised.
It was the blast of air conditioning that let Lizzie know her thong-clad ass was exposed. Lucas backed her to the wall as she stumbled, pinned her there, and fumbled for the crotch of her panties. With one hand, he unzipped his jeans, never bothering to remove them, and thrust into her.
He fucked her there, on the wall, at his party. With a leg around his waist, she stared at her audience, blank-faced and numb, and they stared back with a look of knowing—a knowing of who, or rather what she was, and more importantly, of what she wasn’t. And in her heart, it was what she’d known all along.
He came in her that night, before stepping aside for Walt. Tall and strong, Walt dropped his pants and carried her to the couch, where he shared her mouth with another short and sweaty guy that Lizzie had never met.
There were five in total, five boys that came in her that night, that did whatever they could think of for however long they could stand it. They came in her, all five, and never once did she protest. But afterwards, Lizzie made a decision, her best one yet. Never would she be fucked for nothing again. Never.